The bright dinner light shone over the polished oak table in the dining room. Mark stood near the counter with a small glass bottle hidden in his hand. He poured three clear drops into the grey bowl of soup. His fingers trembled slightly, but his face remained calm and cold. He tossed the empty bottle into his deep pocket and wiped the rim of the bowl with a napkin.
Sarah walked into the dining room carrying a set of cloth napkins. She smiled gently, unaware of what had happened just seconds before. The house was dead quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. Mark took a deep breath, picked up the grey bowl, and walked toward her. He placed it carefully on the placemat in front of her chair.
Mark: Honey, I made this special soup just for you.
Sarah: Oh, really? What is the special occasion today?
Mark: No occasion. I just wanted to show you how much I care about you.
Sarah: That is so sweet of you, Mark. You rarely cook dinner.
Sarah sat down on the high-backed wooden chair and smoothed her skirt. She picked up the silver spoon and dipped it into the warm broth. The steam rose steadily from the bowl into the air. She lifted the spoon close to her nose and paused for a second. A sharp, strange smell hit her nostrils instantly.
Sarah: Wait, why does this smell strange?
Mark: It is just a new blend of fresh herbs I bought at the store.
Sarah: I don't know, Mark. It smells kind of bitter and metallic.
Mark: You are just imagining things, honey. Take a bite before it gets cold.
Sarah lowered the spoon slowly back into the grey bowl. She stared into Mark’s eyes, searching for any sign of nervousness. His smile looked strained, forced, and completely unnatural. She remembered the big life insurance policy they had signed just last month. Her gut told her that something was horribly wrong in this house.
Sarah: I'll be right back, just need to check something in the kitchen.
Mark: Just eat the soup first, Sarah. It took me an hour to make.
Sarah: It will only take a second, Mark. Keep your seat.
Sarah stood up quickly, pushing her wooden chair back with a sharp screech against the floor. She walked fast toward the long white hallway. Mark stood up right behind her, his chest heaving with growing anxiety. He needed her to drink it before anyone else showed up. The silence of the house was broken by heavy footsteps outside the front door.
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